LOVE
by VSSAKJ
Summary: -COMPLETE- Love, one of the most difficult things to define. A past love worth dying for, a present love worth an arduous fight... what does the future hold? Can this pair somehow manage to create a meaning for a word neither of them see the same way?
1. Part I

_(A/N: Yes, I'm back with another Bakura/Seto fic. This one bounces between Egypt and Japan, past and present respectively. It's a bit of an AU... but I hope you enjoy it. Yu-Gi-Oh! isn't mine, and neither is Great Big Sea.)_

**LOVE**

**I**

_When we're together why does something always start?_

_Are we both better off when we are apart?_

_Some days you hate me, I can see it in your eyes;_

_It seems like lately you can't wait to criticize me._

Seto Kaiba lay in his bed – it was a very large bed, expensive, comfortable… empty. He lay on his back, his hands behind his head, his eyes closed. He was trying to sleep, but his mind was refusing him that pleasantry; he was being forced to think of the one who'd been coming nearly every day a few hours before midnight for the past few months. Yes, forced. His brain wasn't being permitted other thoughts. With a loud sigh, he sat up in bed and glared around his room with annoyance, as if it were the cause of his displeasure. He wasn't tired anymore.

After half a moment of consideration, he got out of bed and pulled on a housecoat, walking across the room to seat himself at his desk as he did so. He switched on his computer, thinking vaguely of making a cup of coffee while it hummed and bleeped, starting up. As the login screen popped up, he decided it didn't need it. He wouldn't be able to sleep for a good few hours now anyway.

He typed in his user name and password, then waited for his programs to start up. When the tables of numbers and mess of reminders finally did pop up, he sighed again and closed them. He wasn't thinking straight; damn did he hate it he couldn't sleep or work for the sake of someone else occupying his mind!

"Thinking about me again?" A mocking voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of his window.

"You could at least knock." Seto snapped sharply, though he felt less annoyance than he put on. He stood and went to stand in front of his desk, even though he couldn't see exactly where the visitor was.

There was the soft scuffle of feet meeting the ground, almost imperceptible, and his visitor spoke again, "You should be used to me by now."

"I should, you've only been harassing me every night for the past three months."

Seto could hear the smirk in his visitor's voice, "You like being harassed."

He hardened his words, changing the subject because he didn't have quite the reply he wanted to the previous statement, "What do you want?"

"Take a wild guess." The tone was amused.

Seto glanced at the clock, then said severely, "It's quarter to one in the morning, I'm in no mood for guessing games."

A hand slid around his waist from behind, making him tense slightly, "You should know by now."

"I hate how quietly you can move." Seto muttered, feeling a body press against him from behind.

Lips pressed gently against his neck, the next words coming in a low murmur, "You should be used to that." He paused, nipping with his teeth at the sensitive skin, "You're stressed."

Seto shifted. "That's no surprise. You calling on me every hour of the night…"

"Oh come on. I'll sit outside for hours waiting for you to rise, but I'll never come in or make any noise unless it's you who moves."

"I always know when you're there."

"Except when you're sleeping."

Seto twisted away, rounding on him, "You might think I'd enjoy a little sleep every one in a while!"

He could see the pinpricks of light that were his visitor's eyes narrow as the voice came darkly, "I let you sleep as much as you want."

"Then I would be now." Seto snapped in return.

"You got up! You invited me in by doing that. If you had really wanted to sleep, you wouldn't have turned on the damned computer!"

Seto didn't feel it was the time to point out invitations usually involved words between the two parties, and retorted heatedly "Maybe I had work to do, did you ever consider that?"

"Yes, and I stopped considering it when you closed the windows."

"God damn it Bakura! Do you always have to have the last word?"

"Yes."

Seto fell silent at that, fuming. Quite suddenly, the door to his room crept open some halfway and Mokuba's bright but sleepy eyes peeked in "Seto?"

Seto felt Bakura vanish from in front of him and stepped into the small triangle cast from the hallway, "Yes Mokuba?"

The child blinked a few times, trying to look passed him into the room, "Are you talking to the government again? I thought I heard voices…"

"I was just talking to myself, stating ideas aloud. Kaiba Corp doesn't make weapons anymore, the government's been made aware of that and they won't call again. We aren't going to be taking part in this war, don't worry." He smiled a bit, "Go on back to bed, Mokuba,"

"Okay Seto." He gave a light sigh, coupled with a yawn, and shuffled back down the hall to his own room.

Seto closed the door before going across his own room to sit of the bed with a sigh. When silence settled again, he listened and could still hear Bakura breathing. "I know you're still here."

"Perhaps I'm an envoy of the government who hasn't heard about your change of production. Oh wait, I remember," Bakura's tone was low and annoyed, almost sulky, "You were talking to yourself."

Seto sighed again, noting that he did far too often when Bakura was around, "Because it's completely appropriate for my younger brother to find me with another man in my bedroom at two o'clock in the morning."

"It's only inappropriate because you make it that way." There was a definite petulant note in Bakura's tone now.

"Is there anything you don't argue? Could you just, for once, agree with me?"

"Maybe if you weren't so disillusioned I could."

"Because a thief and a murderer has a better outlook on life than a business tycoon."

"Never heard you call yourself that before."

"It was in a business magazine." Seto put up as a feeble defense.

He felt the bed shift, and then Bakura was sitting directly behind him, "They both sound a little superficial, don't they?"

"I suppose…"

"Who are you, Seto Kaiba?" Bakura asked softly, the question deeper than it actually sounded.

Seto's reply was rather scornful, "Who are you?"

"Answer me first."

Seto sighed, repeating a question he knew he'd spoken already this evening, "What do you want Bakura?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Oh my, the great Seto Kaiba doesn't know, can't answer a simple question." Bakura said without inflection.

"Why are you always trying to start something Bakura?" Seto demanded, then muttered, "I could throw you out…"

Hands slid over his shoulders from behind, working the robe off before talented fingers started massaging his shoulders, "I'm not starting anything. This has been going on for years. Thousands of them."

Seto shifted under the pressure of Bakura's hands, allowing disdain to colour his words, "Don't talk like you're crazy."

"Just accept it. You remember me, I can tell."

"God Bakura, don't push this. We've had this argument often enough, isn't one conflict a night enough for you?" Seto muttered, closing his eyes and leaning against Bakura's hands.

Bakura ignored the second part of what he said and replied, "Okay. I can argue with you tomorrow."

"You won't be here tomorrow" Seto said with a slight smirk, "You'll be here tonight."

"It's morning now, isn't it?"

"For a good two and a half hours now."

"Mmm." Bakura kissed his neck softly, "Then I'll have to go soon."


	2. Part II

_(Part II - I think I've taken a few too many liberties with Bakura's character, but that's just me. Ancient Egypt setting, Yu-Gi-Oh! isn't mine, nor is Great Big Sea)_**  
**

**II**

_But it's alright; we don't have to fight this night._

_It's alright; we don't have to fight tonight._

The Thief King Bakura stood outside the great walls of the Pharaoh's palace, his cloak fluttering the cool desert wind of the evening. Light flickered at regular intervals along the top of them, where there was walkway and guards patrolled every hour of the day and night. Fools. He could get passed them without a breath, without a thought.

He waited for the nearest guard to pass by, then leapt up and dug his fingers into the grooves, scaling it with as much ease as a spider or monkey. He had enough practice climbing walls, and the Pharaoh was idiot enough to have rough ones. He'd often wondered if he could somehow trick the Pharaoh into improving the walls, so as to provide a greater challenge. But then, he wasn't quite ready to risk his life for something interesting. If he got close enough to the Pharaoh he wouldn't be talking to him – he'd be killing him.

When Bakura reached the top of the walls –a matter that took few moments– he slipped to the ground and melted into the welcoming shadows that would not be lit by the unfriendly light of a guard's torch. He then proceeded on his way, going from dark place to dark place without any hesitation. He'd been coming and going to the palace frequently enough as of late, and knew it like the back of his hand.

No one knew the true frequency of his visits, not even the one he often came to see. Sometimes, when he was at the window of his lover, he could see how exhaustion lined the sleeping face and those times, Bakura did not make his presence known. He might stay to observe for a while, smile a bit, but he would be gone before the first fingers of the sun's light straggled into the sky. It would brook no good to be discovered.

He slid down a pillar into the center courtyard on ground level, hugging the walls even though the guard patrolled on the upper level. He wasn't invisible, and it would never do for some meddling epigone or, worse even, the Pharaoh to catch him. A smirk slid across his tanned face as he reminded himself he was visiting the prestigious leader of those same epigones, though he was far from a follower.

And there it was, finally: The tower. This was the dangerous part, the exciting part, for as he climbed its walls he would be exposed to any pair of eyes that so happened to glance in his direction for a moment too long.

His heartstrings thrummed as his arms heaved him out of the comfortable security of the shadows. This was it, the most exhilarating part, even as it was the most perilous. Should someone see him in this moment, he was dead. None of the palace bore him much love, not even the one whom he was visiting. Love was not the best word for what they had. It was… hard to explain, their relationship.

After all, a thief with a priest was rather odd indeed.

He finally felt the windowsill under his fingers and knew by the dull ache in his arms that he'd reached a safer place. He hung for a moment, listening carefully, then pulled himself up onto the sill. His eyes flew around the room, looking for the owner of the faint voice he'd heard that might belong to someone, an acolyte or similar, that would have reason to report his presence. All he saw was the back of the High Priest, and heard his taut voice, "No, I do not need anything, now leave me in peace!"

Bakura smirked, "Can't get enough of you, can they?"

Seth whirled around, eyes wide, and managed to contain his shock to a hissed whisper, "Bakura! You're here."

"No, it's merely an apparition come to haunt you." Bakura said, coming fully into the room and crossing his arms across his chest, "Of course I'm here."

"You said you were going away for a while…"

"Two weeks is long enough." He nodded to the door, where a pair of feet had made themselves visible, "They just can't give you a moment to yourself, can they?"

"Seems so much shorter than two weeks…" Seth trailed off into a loud sigh as he saw the feet, stalking over to the doorway and snapping harshly until the feet pattered away in a hurry. He came back to Bakura, running a hand through his hair, "They just won't leave me be."

Bakura shrugged, "You're High Priest. You're their highest hope and their highest faith."

"I've been High Priest for months."

"Yes, but they've known you would be forever and they've been waiting for the chance to please you, the whole lot of them. When I first met you… do you remember?"

Seth had the feeling Bakura had thrown that in to make sure he was listening, "Of course I do!"

"Good, because then you should remember the first thing you told me. After you decided you weren't going to have me killed, of course."

"What did I say?" Seth muttered distractedly, working off his large shoulder piece.

"That you would be High Priest and you would be worthy of the power that came with it. And be the best one there ever was. You were intriguing." Bakura smirked faintly, "I liked you."

Seth looked up at him then, smiling a little, "I remember you – you were a bloody, teeth-baring animal, bold and free as a bird to fly wherever you wanted to go. I knew who you were of course; even then, everyone knew of the Thief King who wanted to murder the Pharaoh."

Bakura gave a slight nod of his head, "I try."

"I was envious of you. So able to go where you wished and do as you pleased. I still am, sometimes. You don't have to put up with all this useless finery." He made a gesture that encompassed the whole of the ornately decorated room.

"I most certainly don't. And if you hadn't told me so much about how boring life here is, I might have been envious of you." Replied Bakura rather pleasantly, which made Seth look at him with wonder.

"Why do you keep coming back here? You know it would be easier, safer, if I came out to meet you, but you insist on coming here. Why?"

Bakura looked at him a bit oddly, "You answered that yourself when you suggested easier and safer as a method of meeting one another. The challenge is amusing, but I don't know that you would understand…" He faded off for a moment, then recollected himself and added, "Besides that, when do you ever know that I'm here? And we'd need a place and reason for you to be away from here that is plausible, believable, and inconspicuous. I doubt those come up very often for you."

Seth looked out the window, almost wistfully, "No, they do not."

Bakura watched him, feeling for him, "I know you're sick of being stuck here. But it's your life. You don't know how to live any other. Someone else's will always seem better, even when it isn't." He went over and gently laid a hand on Seth's shoulder, turning him so their eyes met, "There's no way for me to contact you expect by coming to see you."

Seth sighed loudly and laid his head upon Bakura's shoulder, his eyes shut.

Bakura put a hand on the back of Seth's head, rubbing it gently, "I'd rather hear word from you than a messenger or emotionless scribbles on some missive."

"They wouldn't be emotionless," Seth argued feebly, "They would express everything I wanted to say."

"But not how you wanted them said. Words are not minions to be bent to your will, Seth." Seth jerked, but Bakura held him fast, continuing in a soft tone, "I've heard the stories, that's all. It's nothing to be ashamed of. If I had enough power, I'd make my own use of it and of servants as well. But I am merely a humble thief –"

Seth chuckled a bit, though it was coloured darkly, "Humble indeed. And here is the humble thief comforting – no, lecturing – the High Priest."

"You can be sure I don't spread word of that around." Bakura reassured with a small smile, "Well, perhaps not so humble, but that is not what matters."

"Oh no, of course not." Seth started off heatedly, "Your setbacks aren't what are important, we'll just talk about all of mine, like how I mistreat servants and am not a pure priest and–"

"Shh." Bakura cut him off promptly, pressing a finger against his lips to calm him, "We don't need to talk about either of our faults. We both have them, and we both know it. There's no reason to argue them with one another. Don't ever think I come here merely to argue with you."

"But we do argue." Seth muttered despondently, "All the time."

Bakura sighed. He could tell, now even as he'd known when he'd first met Seth, that there would be many and far more violent arguments between them, with more severe outcomes as time went on. They weren't exactly compatible people – both very dominating, both mistrustful and easily angered. But this time, it could wait. Those aspects of their natures could be curved for now. Though Seth wasn't exactly a young boy anymore, he was still young and inexperienced enough to trust most of what Bakura said and not to dispute it. Unfortunately, that luxury couldn't last much longer.

"Everyone argues." He muttered gently, "But we don't have to, not right now. And even if we do, it's okay. We can get along even if we do argue."

"Alright Bakura." Seth sighed, huddling against him a bit, "If you say so."

"I do." Bakura held him tightly, but gingerly, as if he would crush this burgeoning trust and comfort.

"Can you stay tonight?" Seth asked after some time, looking up at him.

Bakura looked out the window into the sky's darkness, then back to Seth with a smirk, "I think that could be arranged."


	3. Part III

_(A/N: Same disclaimers as previous. This is probably going to be the shortest part overall, the next is in fact quite long. Previous warning of AU is reinstated more strongly -- again I wonder about my characterization.)_**  
**

**III**

_And I say love, LaLaLaLaLa, love,_

_love, LaLaLaLaLa, love,_

_Gotta believe in,_

_love, LaLaLaLaLa, love._

Bakura woke up to the shaking of the very foundations of the building, rousing himself to full wakefulness and discovering he was still naked in Kaiba's bed. He silently slid out from under the sheets and went to the window, gazing out into the ever-dark night sky. It was suddenly lit up by a bright explosion from halfway across the city and the building rocked again. Bakura maintained his balance, still peering out in the gloom, trying to discern exactly what was happening. It seemed like an airborne battle this time; there wasn't very much in the way of screaming.

Seto rolled over with a groan, and Bakura glanced back at him, but he was still sleeping. It was always rough after they'd fought, and Seto always slept longer. Bakura couldn't afford to do the same – he had to leave before the sun came up. He wondered why he hadn't left yet… but it didn't feel like it was time to go.

He sighed and redirected his attention to the window as another volley of explosions went off and the room was brightly lit for several seconds. '_Stupid people and their wars.'_ Bakura thought savagely, his eyes picking out a plane plummeting to the ground, '_What's the point anyway? I could spend years in this room and every time I looked out it would always be the same: people fighting over stupid things. They might be things they believe in, but they're still stupid.'_

He heard rustling behind him and knew that Seto was awake now, out of bed; probably stalking towards him to demand why he wasn't gone yet. He tensed slightly, preparing a snappy comeback and readying himself to have to go out the window.

Seto came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, asking tiredly, "What's going on?"

Bakura relaxed slightly, though not without some surprise, "More bombing, I think. Planes are involved."

"Is it nearby?"

"Not close enough to be really worried." Bakura glanced back and up at him, "Can't you see that?"

"I just woke up."

"So did I."

Seto sighed, but somehow wasn't feeling annoyed or up to an argument. He voiced this as a question, "Why can't I hate you?"

Bakura smirked, "Is that the same as asking why you love me?"

"Just answer." Seto muttered roughly.

"I suppose it's because we've been loving one another forever."

Seto started to sigh, which likely would have lead to scoffing, but Bakura twisted so they were facing one another and cut him off, "You asked the question and I gave you what I think is the most truthful answer. Can't you just accept that?"

"No, because it's insane. I can't believe that either you or I were alive three thousand or even three hundred years ago."

"Why, because your mathematics can't explain it?" Bakura retorted fiercely, "Human nature isn't defined by numbers, Seto. If it were, ours would be about as far apart as the moon and the sun."

Seto was silent for a while, his contemplative face lit every so often by the flashes of light from the bombing, and Bakura fumed. Finally, Seto spoke slowly, "Suppose we were alive back then. Suppose we were in love. Why now, then? Aren't I different? Aren't you?"

Now it was Bakura's turn to fall into quiet thought, though he'd felt himself rock to the core when Seto had said that. He couldn't help but rejoice a little, as even though Seto had said 'suppose', it seemed he might be starting to accept the past. But then, Seto had changed – he knew near surefire ways to manipulate Bakura now, at least to some extent, as he'd never known in the past.

But then again, maybe he hadn't changed at all. Bakura chuckled a bit to himself, "No Seth, you haven't changed."

Seto blinked, starting to ask a question, but Bakura kept on, "You always did ask the loaded questions. The ones I just couldn't answer. You once asked me why you were a priest. How was I supposed to know that? What was I supposed to say? You already doubted yourself, felt need of confirmation. I swear I thought that if I answered wrongly you'd throw yourself into the Nile or run away with me, neither of which would be very good for you. I didn't know what to say – what do you tell a priest who is questioning their following?"

"I don't know…" Seto interjected, even though it had little point in Bakura's spiel.

"I remember telling you that it was because that's what you were supposed to do. That was why you existed: to be the greatest High Priest of Egypt. Then you asked if your reason for being could be changed. I couldn't answer that question." He looked at Seto, smirking, "Still can't."

"So I'm still supposed to be a power-hungry priest, am I?" Seto said sardonically, crossing his arms over his chest and staring Bakura in the eye. This conversation wasn't going at all where he had expected, and he could feel his heart beat quicken with his nervousness.

"Not a priest, no. But you're meant to rule, to have power. Look at everything you have. It's similar, isn't it? Back then you had power over people, and now you do as well. And you still hate the Pharaoh."

"Don't bring anyone else into this." Seto ordered quickly, "This is already hypothetical enough, without having other people in this past of yours."

"So you acknowledge it's real."

"No." Seto said a bit too quickly, "I don't… believe it." He put his hand on Bakura's shoulder again, staring out the window with his eyes glazed over.

Bakura started laughing quietly to himself once more, whispering, "No Seth, you haven't changed, not one bit."


	4. Part IV

_(Fourth installment. Definitely the longest part. Ancient Egypt setting, same disclaimers as previously..)_

**IV**

_How many more of our children have to fall?_

_And just how high do we have to build these walls?_

_In fighting there's no dignity, it's such a waste of time_

_Take my hand,_

_I don't think God will mind._

Seth was furious. Perhaps even beyond furious. There might not be a word strong enough to describe his present state of emotion. In the simplest terms, at the most basic level, he was not happy.

For one, the Pharaoh was insisting on carrying out this ridiculous holy war, to purge the land of all those not worthy to be or serve Egyptians, and saying it was god-willed. Even with the offensive and defensive developments Atemu had acquired, there was little to no point in going through with it. The nations nearest to them were already cowed, and those further away would not feel threatened. Surely their enemies would see the wisdom in joining together, even briefly, to crush a common enemy?

Of course, he'd pointed these reasonings out to his dear Pharaoh, but the man refused to listen, even consider what he'd said. He was only the High Priest, only important in manners of ritual and the gods. Wars were not his concern; there couldn't possibly be a tactical bone in his body. No, even with all his years as High Priest, he was just a fool. So off they were venturing on a holy war; a pointless, futile, 'god-willed' war.

Then there was the matter of Bakura. The damned thief hadn't been around for nearly two months now, not only contributing to unwanted sexual frustration, but also causing there to be a severe lack of anyone to argue with. Seth couldn't really argue with other people around the palace, for the word would get back to the Pharaoh, and consequences of that would not be very pretty.

Then again, arguing with Bakura tended to be rather ugly. He had an excuse for everything and a counter-argument for everything else, even if it involved siding with the Pharaoh's mindset. Seth was positive he did it merely to be annoying, and it most certainly was! Being agreed with once in a while was just too much to ask, wasn't it? Seth was always wrong, could never ever be right…

He sighed aloud, glancing out the window with dismay at all the fortification that were going on. Hundreds upon hundreds of slaves were out heaving and hauling stone to bring better defense to the Pharaoh's palace; the stronghold had to be well protected. Yes, there were other methods he could defend himself and his abode, but Pharaoh planned to be with his troops, thus focusing on offense abroad and not defense on the home front. Granted, that choice was unusual but…

Seth refused to try and fathom the Pharaoh's mind. It was one of those things you just didn't try to do, because if you did find out, you'd never be able to see in the same light again.

So Seth fumed quietly to himself for two weeks, allowing the rage to simmer and thicken, taking advantage of when some of the younger new recruits for the army were killed in practice sessions to argue his side. "You are killing your own people, Pharaoh! The ones who revere you as if you are their own father! Why do you insist on continuing with this?" He'd demanded, with all the hot emotion he'd been holding back colouring his words.

"Priest," The Pharaoh had replied in a calm but dangerous tone that brooked no argument, "Some sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

And that was when Seth gave up on trying to convince him otherwise and decided to have as little as possible to do with this war.

It came as a shock when Bakura finally showed up, looking the most ragged Seth had ever seen him. His voice too, seemed lackluster and even hoarse from neglect of use, "Aren't we a sight for sore eyes?" He was probably referring to himself, Seth decided, but really didn't care.

"Where the hell have you been?" He demanded coldly, glaring at the thief with repressed frustration, among other things.

Bakura fixed him with a odd look and replied shortly, "Cursing doesn't suit you Seth. Very pleasant welcome, I'm ever so pleased I came back."

"Never mind that, where have you been?"

Bakura ignored the question, saying instead in a conversational tone, "I see the Pharaoh has been busy while I've been away. Why are we involved in a holy war, now? That's the rumour going around."

"I'm not associated with it." Seth stated bitterly, but it didn't seem Bakura would give up that easily.

"The words 'Pharaoh' and 'holy' associate you with it."

"Damn it Bakura, I want nothing to do with the stupid thing! It's an entire waste of human life and resources and time!" The words burst out, shaking with the anger Seth had been forced to hold in for too long.

Bakura took it mildly, "Of course it is. All wars are. But what can you tell me about it?"

"Where have you been this whole time? Answer me and I'll answer you." Seth countered; just because he hadn't seen Bakura in three months didn't mean he was about to surrender information with ease.

Now Bakura bristled. "It's none of your business where I've been."

"And it's not your concern what the Pharaoh thinks of this war."

"It is." Bakura snarled, "Anything the Pharaoh does is my concern."

"As it is mine." Seth returned in an equally dark tone, "It is also my duty to keep anything that might endanger him from his antagonists."

"You know I'm not considered that anymore."

"I also know how foolish it is of them to trust you."

Bakura chuckled in a sinister way, "They don't. We used one another, there was never mutual trust involved."

"How surprising." Seth said sardonically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bakura did not appreciate this. "No changing the subject anymore. What is the cause of this war?"

"Why are you so interested?" Seth was suspicious – Bakura was not behaving in anything even remotely similar to a trustworthy manner. His reaction made Seth even more skeptical.

"It doesn't matter _why_!" Bakura nearly yelled, keeping his voice down only because it cracked oddly from disuse halfway up, "Just tell me!"

"And if I don't?" Seth knew he was baiting Bakura and that wasn't exactly smart, but he wanted answers.

"Damn it, I'll go straight back out that window and across the desert to the very people you're planning to attack and offer them my head!" There was a moment of complete silence, then Bakura looked as if he'd said something he really hadn't meant to reveal.

Seth went from ghost white to livid in a matter of milliseconds and seized Bakura by the shoulders, shoving him against the wall next to the window. "What the hell are you doing talking to them?"

Bakura just glared angrily at him and muttered in a death-dark tone, "Let go of me."

"If I let go of you, it's out the window and you're falling to a painful death. And if you don't die from the fall, the Pharaoh will have immense pleasure killing you when your legs don't work." Seth growled harshly, "Now tell me what you were doing with them."

"Do it." The words were resigned.

Seth was not distracted, but blinked once. "Do what?"

"Throw me out the window. Bash my head in the wall a few times too. Go ahead. Do it."

That was not a reaction Seth had expected at all. He released Bakura's shoulders, backed up a step and asked, "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Bakura muttered entirely too quickly.

"Bakura, what is it?"

"Nothing." Bakura returned forcefully.

"There's obviously something."

"It's not important."

"If you're asking me to kill you, it's pretty important."

"Death is inevitable, why should I fight it?"

Seth thought about that for a moment, trying to read Bakura's meaning. The thief was trying to dodge letting him know something important, that much was plainly obvious. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

Bakura didn't reply, and Seth took that as a bad thing. "What did you tell them?" He asked, trying to sound neither angry nor coddling but stern enough that Bakura would know he seriously wanted an answer.

"I told them I'd done work for the Pharaoh." Bakura muttered bitterly, sliding down the wall so he was sitting, a hand on his forehead.

Seth swayed on the spot, shocked. Bakura wasn't proud of that, why would he tell them?

"I didn't detail as to what." Bakura continued, still sounding unhappy, "I didn't tell them anything important."

Seth reacted before he thought about it. "Not to you, maybe –"

"Not to anyone." Bakura cut him off, "I told them false truths about our army and fighting style. They didn't know any better than to believe me. In return for telling them I wanted to kill the Pharaoh, they told me some of their plans. They believed I was on their side, wanted to work with them. I may have mentioned something of trying plans similar to theirs and failing… but somehow they commissioned me to kill the Pharaoh so they could invade while we were in turmoil." Bakura shook his head, as if he still didn't believe it or understand how it had happened, "They really believe me a traitor and for all my trying to escape, they wouldn't let me until I'd promised them the Pharaoh's head – or my own."

"I don't see the problem." Well, that wasn't exactly true, Seth did see one or two, but if Bakura already wanted to kill the Pharaoh…

"I don't want to kill the Pharaoh for someone else. It's always been for me." Bakura clenched his fist, "No one else. And an invasion… you already said wars are a waste."

"They are."

"So if I kill the Pharaoh now, essentially I cause that waste."

"Never thought you'd be one to take the whole kingdom into your consideration."

"That isn't it." Bakura sighed, "It's all the matter of the Pharaoh."

Silence fell between them. Seth was thinking and Bakura seemed tired. He must have been; he'd travelled across the desert and he wasn't the best person at sharing his problems. In fact, this was probably the most he'd ever confided in Seth since they'd first met.

Finally, Seth spoke softly, "There has to be some way we can get you out of this."

"Yes, kill me and get it over with."

"Do you have any idea why I love you?" Seth demanded suddenly, turning to face Bakura with his arms akimbo.

Bakura stared at him. Those weren't the type of words they typically exchanged; never before now and especially not in this type of conversation.

"It's because you don't quit," Seth went on, "Because you go against the odds with all the confidence in the world… the world can kneel at you feet, you think, you act like. You're greater than it, aren't you? You can defeat anything that comes your way. You're the great and indomitable Thief King, and no one will ever stand in your way. No one will best you. Isn't that how it is?"

"Guess not."

Seth sighed exasperatedly, extending a hand to Bakura, "Come. I daresay the gods won't begrudge my helping you one more time."

Bakura looked at him for a moment, head cocked slightly to one side.

"I have a plan. Trust me, this once?" Seth sounded nearly pleading; their trust had all but dissolved as they'd grown older and more shrewd, both.

Bakura glanced at Seth's hand, then took it and pulled himself to his feet. "No quitting yet." He agreed.


	5. Part V

_(A/N: Fifth and final part. A/U to the max. Part of this alludes to my one-shot 'Stolen Prayers'. Enjoy.)_

**V**

_Every day, I can hear the rockets fly,_

_Over the graves of too many who have died._

_Fighting for land, some ancient holy shrine;_

_I'll bet your blood runs red, just the same as mine…_

The sounds of war were so much louder now, so much closer.

"You've got your work and I've got mine."

"Bakura, you're not involved in anything even remotely related to this. I doubt you're even listed as a person on any kind of record anywhere in the country. Heck, in the world."

"Doesn't matter."

"Damn it, yes it does! You're not going off into that hell-hole to loot bodies and get yourself–" Seto cut himself off abruptly, realizing what he'd been about to say.

Bakura smirked. He knew it too. "You tried to tell me what to do once before, you know. I left for months. When I came back, you were furious. Furious and maybe a little attention starved, too. I did it once and I'll do it again. You'll always be left behind waiting."

There were two routes Seto felt he could take, one being denial and the second being the one he chose. Denial no longer felt completely plausible in his head, and so he chose the other course. "What if I'm not waiting when you get back? What if I die while you're gone?"

That made Bakura do a double-take. "What?"

"Think about it. The fighting's moving around every day. Last night you could see it from my window. What if tonight it's above my house? What would you do if you came back to ashes and ruin and just another gravestone? What would you do then?" It may have sounded harsh and it may have sounded paranoid, but the statement had been a fact. Last week the majority of battles had been centered in Kyoto. Now they were here. Where would they be next week, up near Hokkaido? There was no way of knowing.

"… I'd do what I did last time."

"And what would that be?" Seto demanded.

"Wait."

Seto sighed, and loudly. "There's no way for someone to come back from the dead."

Bakura was remarkably cool with his response. "I'm a remarkable example of that phenomenon. Though I guess technically I never did quite die."

It was queer. Vaguely familiar, like a dream he'd always had but never remembered the following morning. The image sort of slid into view behind his eyes (and yet in front of them too, because he could see it) and ghosted around the edges, with that faded quality they use in movies to make something seem old. Bakura, but a different looking Bakura than the one he knew; a Bakura (with mocha-dark skin and a scar across his eye and a scarlet-red robe about his shoulders and a peculiar expression on his face) was standing next to a big man with an axe, his head down and his hands tied. The strange Bakura looked up – at him – and smiled and then was killed.

Seto backed up a few steps, hand over his mouth, stomach wrenching.

Bakura took a step forward, extending one hand towards him. "Seto?"

Seto shook his head, still backing up. "What did you do?"

"I did nothing." Bakura said flatly, "What are you talking about?"

"You… your head… it wasn't…" Seto shook his head again, putting one hand on his forehead.

"… What did you see?"

"You _died_." Seto finally backed up against the outside wall of his house and butted up against it, unable to move any further away. He was still pressing his palm against his mouth, fighting off being sick, and he was shaking, though he looked like he hated it.

Bakura swallowed, then advanced several steps. "I died once, a long time ago. But my soul didn't. It's still here. I'm right in front of you, Seto."

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Seto's eyes were wide as he stared at Bakura, like he still could see the other neck with no skull attached and the other clothes and the other other Bakura. He bit his lip, hard, until blood streaked onto his chin and dripped to the ground, and then he looked down, his knees quaking nearly to the point of his not being able to stand up.

"Stop it." Bakura said firmly, finally advancing and putting his hands on Seto's face to hold him steady when he tried to look away from his nearness. "I'm right here. I'm real, Seto, you _know_ that."

"How are you… ?"

"You don't believe it, remember? Don't try to start like this. Start by believing little things, things I've told you. Don't believe what you see. You haven't slept well, it's like a dream. Just calm down."

Seto was still chewing his lower lip, the cut allowing more blood keep on dribbling out, staining clear, bright red on his white shirt. He didn't much seem to be listening.

Bakura bit his own lip then, hard enough to make it bleed. An idea struck him; he slid a hand around Seto's neck and pulled him forward to kiss hard. Kissed him long enough that Seto had to work to breathe when they pulled apart, and then said in a low voice, "Is there any difference?"

That made Seto blink and wipe across his mouth with the back of his hand before replying, perplexed, "What do you mean?"

"Does it taste any different? Older? Colder? Do I taste like a dead person?"

Seto faltered. "No…"

"Then I'm not. It's simple, isn't it?" Bakura pulled back, wiping the blood from his own face. "Now I've got to leave. You've put me behind schedule."

Seto was scrambling to seize a hold on the situation. "Wait, you're not going to raid, are you?"

"Of course I am. I've nothing better to do with my time. You've got your work, and I've got mine."

"You said that already."

"And I meant it." Bakura said sharply, moving towards the street, "Don't forget me while I'm gone." And then he was.

Seto's words were for no one but himself. "… I won't."


End file.
